


relax my beloved

by lolainslackss



Series: Domestic Bliss [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Come Swallowing, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sex Toys, Tied-up Neil, anniversary sex, this is soft but also dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss
Summary: They're not really the anniversary type. That said, Neil decides that his and Andrew's impending wedding anniversary is the perfect occasion for them to spice up their sex life.





	relax my beloved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/gifts), [alexjosten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjosten/gifts).



> ty to @moonix/@petalplate for inviting me to contribute to their amazing series ;-;
> 
> this is based on these two prompts: anniversary sex but it's many years after they've been together, and sex is starting to get a little routine, so they look for a way to spice up their sex life / or: it's been a while since they last bothered with anything other than generic handjobs and but they want to make time for each other on their anniversary night and make it special
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name by Alex Clare. Content warnings in the tags.

They’ve shared a lot of firsts.

Sure, their first kiss wasn’t _the_ first; they’d both been kissed before. But it was the start of something. It was an entire lifetime taking shape. Fierce and longing, it was _their_ first kiss, and it’s forever etched in Neil’s memory, just like he knows it is in Andrew’s. He can remember every word and every touch. He can remember the trace of cigarette smoke, curled up like a snakeskin, that lingered in both their mouths.

He can remember it all.

All the firsts stack up. There’s the first time Andrew got him off, the first time _he_ got Andrew off, the first times they each used their mouths, and the first breathless time they fucked. There are other firsts too, like sleeping in the same bed, moving in together, or bringing Sir and King home. Firsts like getting engaged, like getting married.

All these anniversaries are not worth celebrating, he knows that. They’re too numerous and they’re not the type anyway. So the dates pass, like holidays they don’t really celebrate or birthdays they never thought they’d reach. Neil doesn’t keep a record, but the tiny, empty squares on his phone calendar have this secret, private sparkle anyway. He’ll take a moment to think about how thankful he is that these things happened, and he’ll squeeze Andrew’s hand a little harder that day.

The important thing is that he remembers, and that Andrew does too. The important thing is that their days pile up. No expiry dates; only clean laundry and late dinners and lazy kisses.

Endless nights spent on the couch.

Just like this one.

Andrew is stuffed in one corner wearing this outrageously fluffy bathrobe that he stole from a hotel room a few years back, and Neil is sprawled across the couch on his side, his feet resting on Andrew’s lap. They’re watching Buzzfeed Unsolved on Youtube and bickering about the murder case that’s being discussed when the Skype call tone rings out from Andrew’s laptop.

“You get it,” Andrew says.

“It’s your laptop,” Neil complains.

Andrew gestures to Neil’s feet still lying in his lap as if they’re some magnificent weight holding him down. Neil sighs and twirls around on his ass to get off the couch, ignoring the twinge in his bad knee as he stands.

Neil carries the laptop through to the kitchen and props it on the only free countertop before hitting the receive button.

“Neil,” Nicky croons as his fuzzy, pixelated face fills the screen. “I’d complain about Andrew dodging my calls if I wasn’t so happy to see your pretty face. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Neil replies. He washes a couple of dinner plates as they catch up; he’d felt too lazy to clean before.

“Well, as you know, it’s mine and Erik’s wedding anniversary tomorrow,” Nicky says, grinning so widely that Neil momentarily wonders if it might break his face in two. “And he’s arranged for us to go on some ridiculous, month-long trek across Asia. I can’t believe him, I swear.”

“Wow,” Neil replies. “So you’ll be away for a while?”

“Yeah,” Nicky says. “That’s kind of why I called. I’ll be off the grid for a bit.”

“I’ll let Andrew know,” Neil assures him, though he can tell Andrew’s already eavesdropping by the tilt of his neck. “I hope it’s fun.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Nicky replies breezily, before making a face. “As long as Erik doesn’t try to take me on a three-day hike again.”

“Right. Well. Happy wedding anniversary. Tell Erik too. From both of us.”

“Speaking of wedding anniversaries,” Nicky goes on, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially, “isn’t yours coming up soon?”

Neil’s gaze flits over to Andrew. The back of his head is still, bathed in lamplight, and he keeps tapping the remote control against his thigh in an offbeat rhythm, apparently not listening anymore.

“I guess,” Neil answers finally, unable to return his attention to the screen. “It’s not a big deal.”

“What are you talking about? It’s a huge deal,” Nicky insists. He’s so loud that Neil taps the volume button to turn him down.

“We don’t really celebrate that stuff,” Neil mutters. “You know that.”

“I know that you’re both hopeless,” Nicky laments. “Promise me you’ll do _something_.”

“I-”

“You should do some kinky stuff, at least.”

“Nicky-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll butt out.”

“Good. Have fun on your trip. See you when you get back?”

“Maybe at Christmas,” Nicky agrees.

They say their goodbyes and the call ends. Neil closes the laptop and sighs before looking round at the messy kitchen. He’d much rather return to the warm, sleepy comfort of the couch so he dumps a few dishes in the sink to soak, silently promising to do them later.

He goes back to the couch and curls up on his side, tucking his cold feet in between Andrew’s thighs. On the TV, the episode has switched to one about Bigfoot. Neil lets loose an exasperated sigh and opens his mouth to say Bigfoot is stupid but Andrew pulls his feet loose and starts gently massaging them and he finds he doesn’t have the energy to speak. Not long after, his eyelids flutter closed.

He wakes up under a blanket feeling disoriented and sweaty. When he lets his eyes close again, Andrew leans over, smoothes a hand down his side, and digs a thumb into his ribs.

“Bed,” Andrew says.

“The dishes,” Neil mumbles sleepily.

“They’ll still be dirty tomorrow,” Andrew tells him. “Let’s go.”

Neil somehow manages to get to his feet and drags himself to the bedroom. Their sheets are cool against his skin and he nuzzles his head against the pillow until he feels comfortable.

“You’re worse than the cats,” Andrew mutters as he climbs into bed beside him.

Neil hums, amused, and shuffles closer to Andrew so he can wind his arm around his husband’s side. He absent-mindedly splays his hand flat against Andrew’s chest and feels this flood of fondness spill through him. As Andrew’s breathing evens out, Neil’s mind drifts, and he finds himself thinking about his Skype call with Nicky.

Their wedding anniversary is coming up, and maybe they _should_ do something. It doesn’t have to be anything big, Neil decides. In fact, something small sounds perfect. Before he can properly plan anything, though, his thoughts disintegrate and he’s tugged into the soft, velvety oblivion of sleep.

 

…

 

After thinking about it for two weeks straight, Neil finds himself constantly returning to something Nicky had said: _do some kinky stuff, at least_.

It almost seems silly, but it fits so perfectly. After all, they’ve slipped into a _routine_ that way. Exhausted from practice, they spend their nights snuggling on the couch and enjoying being lazy together. Sex has slowed down considerably. There’s not that same urgency, that _need_ to get off nightly. In fact, more frequently it’s like this: their hands wander when they’re in bed and if either of them get aroused in the dark, they take care of one another. Neil’s desire for Andrew hasn’t really waned, and the handjobs are _good_ obviously, but he overthinks things. Maybe there are things Andrew wants to try that he doesn’t raise because he thinks Neil prefers the easy intimacy they’ve grown accustomed to.

It’s this line of thinking that leads to him planning to suggest they _do some kinky stuff, at least_ to celebrate their wedding anniversary. That alone doesn’t feel enough, so he decides to sweeten the offer with a box of ridiculously expensive bath bombs he thinks Andrew will like.

He slips away after practice, promising to meet Andrew back at the apartment, and goes into town to pick them up. It takes way longer than he anticipated.

The saleswoman, upon learning that they’re an anniversary present, manages to cajole him into buying a bottle of massage oil as well as the three cocoa butter-filled bath bombs. He also gets distracted looking around a tucked-away sex shop. Cradling the box of bath bombs, he wanders around wondering if he needs to pick anything up. He knows they’ve got about three half-full tubes of lube at home, so he bypasses that. He squints at the butt plugs and dildos and decides they have everything they need in that department. Finally, he looks at the whips and handcuffs and nipple clamps strewn around the back section of the shop and tentatively runs a hand across them. Nothing really makes his dick twitch, so he leaves before someone approaches him to ask if he needs help.

He gets back to the apartment, feeling more flustered than ever, just as the sun starts to set. He’s already toed off his sneakers and dumped his keys in the clamshell bowl by the door before he notices the smell filling the apartment. The buttery, sweet scent of freshly baked cake is a familiar one. Andrew and Renee still have their baking dates (in which they’ve taken to attempting ridiculous novelty cakes shaped like hamburgers or hunting knives) and Andrew likes to fill empty afternoons occupying his hands with kneading dough or decorating tiny fairy cakes.

Neil knows better than to interrupt Andrew when he’s baking so he makes his way over to the couch and watches as the skyline burns from molten orange to brittle black. Eventually, he hears footsteps, and Andrew sits down next to him.

“Happy anniversary,” Neil blurts out, shoving the box into Andrew’s hands.

Andrew raises his eyebrows but holds onto the box. “So, we’re doing that now?”

“It’s just a little thing,” Neil insists.

Andrew nods and unravels the lavender-coloured ribbon before sliding the wooden lid out of the way. He looks down at the three chalky orbs with a blank expression on his face.

“They make your skin soft,” Neil tells him, unsure why he feels the need to fill the silence between them when their silences are usually easy and comfortable.

He receives a glare in return for that information, but Andrew lifts the box up and smells the bath bombs before carefully placing them to the side. He looks at Neil intently and drums his fingers against his knee for another minute or two before jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen.

Neil stands and waits for a heartbeat or two for Andrew to follow. When he shows no signs of doing so, Neil makes his way over to the kitchen.

On top of the glass cake stand Renee had gotten Andrew for his last birthday sits a tiered cake topped with two fondant Exy racquets.

Neil stares at it for a second, suddenly understanding why people put photos of their food on Instagram for the entire world to see. The cake is laced with threads of courgette and carrot and looks delicious.

“Did you seriously bake me a cake that has Exy racquets on top?” Neil calls over to Andrew.

“They’re lacrosse racquets.” Andrew quips, peering at Neil over the top of the couch.

“Ha ha,” Neil replies sarcastically, looking away and studying the cake. “Wait. These are ours.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are. Yours has the rainbow tape round the end.”

“Hmm. Must be a coincidence.”

“I love it. Do you want some?”

“No. I baked it so we can stare at it all night.”

“Andrew.”

“Bring it through here.”

Neil carries the cake through to the lounge and places it on the coffee table before heading back to grab a knife. When he goes to cut it, he hesitates. Andrew’s been working on it for hours; it seems a shame to spoil it.  

“It’s a cake, not a kitten. Just cut it,” Andrew says, as if reading his mind.

“But it’s so nice,” Neil mutters, his hand hovering just above the cake. “And you made it for our anniversary. I didn’t know you would- well-”

“You’ve been weird for weeks,” Andrew points out when Neil trails off. “I knew you were planning something or other.”

“So you planned something too,” Neil concludes.

“It would be rude not to,” Andrew says with a shrug, and it’s such an _Andrewism_ that Neil can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll take a picture first,” Neil says, moving to put down the knife.

“I’ve already sent you some,” Andrew tells him, bored.

“Okay,” Neil replies, feeling warmed from the inside out.

He lets the knife sink through the fondant and the many layers of fluffy cake before plopping two thick slices into separate bowls. He hands one to Andrew and they eat their cake, chatting about practice for a little while before reminiscing about their wedding day all those years ago. Neil laughs so hard he nearly cries when he remembers how they were nearly late for the ceremony because they were having a cheeky quickie. Andrew’s tie was crooked for the rest of the day.

Andrew cuts off another slice as Neil watches him and tries not to look too moony.

“Say what you want to say,” Andrew says eventually. There’s a smear of raspberry-champagne jam on his top lip and Neil feels a thrill at the thought of licking it off.

“Do you ever get bored of… handjobs in the dark?” he asks, the question spilling out of him like a sudden downpour.

Andrew puts down the dessert fork and pretends to consider this for a minute, more likely trying to figure out how Neil got to that specific line of thought.  

“No,” Andrew replies eventually, quirking an eyebrow. “Do _you_?”

“ _No_ ,” Neil insists, meaning it. After a long day, all he needs is Andrew’s rough, steady hands against him before sleep. “It’s just- is there anything you’ve always wanted to try?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Neil says, drawing a blank. Nicky’s words suddenly creep up on him like poison ivy rash. “Kinky stuff?”

“Kinky stuff,” Andrew echoes. “Like role-playing or having a threesome?”

“ _No_ ,” Neil says, smothering the sudden laugh that blossoms in his throat. “Who would we even have a threesome _with_?”

“You tell me,” Andrew replies. “You’re the one suddenly into ‘kinky stuff’.”

“I just mean like- well, you could tie me up?” Neil suggests, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Or we could try lingerie.”

“We’ve done those things before,” Andrew points out.

“Not for a while,” Neil counters. “I just thought we could do something… I don’t know, different. For our wedding anniversary.”

Andrew stares at him for what feels like a full minute, his gaze dipping to Neil’s crotch a couple of times. Neil is, unashamedly, already hard. All this talk of sex, however silly, has gone straight to his dick, and he doesn’t care enough to hide it. Stealing a sneaky glimpse of his own, he sees Andrew is in exactly the same predicament.

“I want to sixty-nine,” Andrew says after what feels like an eternity staring at each other’s hard-ons.

“We’ve definitely done _that_ before,” Neil says. He doesn’t really give two fucks, because sixty-nining is, well, _glorious_ , but he’d been keen for them to try something new.

“Not for a while,” Andrew says, and for once, Neil is ludicrously thrilled to have his own words tossed back in his face.

“Point taken,” Neil says, his hand slowly drifting to his crotch to palm himself through the tenting fabric of his shorts.

“So it’s a yes?” Andrew asks, mirroring him.

“It’s a yes,” Neil confirms, slowly crawling across the floor to climb on the couch.  

“And I’ll film it,” Andrew adds, lying down on his back.

“That _is_ kinky,” Neil says, feeling a rush of excitement swing violently back-and-forth in his stomach as he moves to straddle Andrew.

“I was joking,” Andrew replies, running the tips of his fingers up-and-down Neil’s thighs.

“Oh.”

“Not about the sixty-nining. Pants off.”

Neil obliges, tugging his shorts and boxers as far down as he can before they get trapped around his knees. Andrew arches his back and bucks his hips against Neil’s ass as he does the same, pulling his jeans down so that his erection pops free.

Within nanoseconds, Neil is bending down to kiss him. They kiss messily, desperately, like they did in the early days. It’s all tongues and teeth. Andrew breaks the kiss long enough to spit in his hand and then resumes it as he deftly strokes their cocks with his spit-slick hand. Neil breathes out an unintelligible string of noises at the feather-light, corkscrew touch against the head of his cock.

Andrew pulls away and shoots Neil a look as he twirls his finger around in a lazy circle. Neil takes the hint and swivels around, careful not to knee Andrew in the face as he rests his shins the couch cushions. Their clothes are still a rumpled mess: pants caught somewhere down their legs and t-shirts hitched up. Neil doesn’t even want to bother stripping off any further. He just wants Andrew’s dick in his mouth as soon as physically possible. He positions himself, letting loose a shaky sigh, before taking the head of Andrew’s dick in his mouth. He sucks firmly all the while lowering his hips and shifting his ass so that his own cock lines up with Andrew’s lips. Andrew grabs him with a rough, steady hand, and lifts his head to take Neil all the way into his mouth.

Once Andrew is sucking him off in earnest, Neil gets to work. He braces his hands against the couch and builds up a tiny pool of spit in his mouth which he works up and down Andrew’s cock with his tongue. Once everything is slick and wet, he moves on to taking Andrew as deep as he can. Blowing him like this, only using his mouth, is incredible. Andrew hums his approval against Neil’s cock and the shiver of the vibrations feels so fucking good that he has to stop himself from jerking his hips and fucking Andrew’s mouth. Andrew really is _too_ good at this. He’s being deliberately slow, sucking hard with his tongue curled tightly around Neil’s shaft, and Neil feels delirious, bright-red-hot. Like he’s short-circuiting. Like he’s a volcano ready to erupt.

His arms start to ache in a blissful way and he just picks up the pace, hoping Andrew will do the same. He hears the sound of Andrew spitting before he feels it slap against his balls. Andrew’s mouth pulls off him and then Neil's being jerked off as Andrew laps at his balls with the tip of his tongue. Neil's toes straighten and his eyes scrunch up with pleasure but he doesn’t stop sucking, his head bobbing up and down and his fingers twisting into the cushions. Andrew starts sucking him off again and he nearly loses it. His orgasm starts to wind up and he unintentionally pulls off of Andrew, murmuring curses and affirmations in a frantic, tremulous voice. He feels like he’s a ripe fruit about to be split open.

Then, Andrew pats him twice on his right thigh. It’s their unspoken signal: _wait_. Neil moans out a huffy, exasperated noise as Andrew slows down and then stops blowing him altogether. He flops against Andrew’s legs, letting his muscles relax and then turns to catch Andrew’s eye. He’s only slightly disappointing he didn’t get to keep going until Andrew came in his mouth, cock pulsating, but he’s also eager to find out what else is on the cards.

“Before,” Andrew manages through shallow breaths. “You mentioned I could tie you up. Is it still yes?”

“Fuck,” Neil croaks out. “It is absolutely one hundred percent yes.”

His heartbeat feels small and twinkly, like a lighter catching sparks. They don’t use binds very often - sometimes it pushes all the wrong buttons - but when it’s right, the trust and the intimacy of it is a rush all on its own. Right now, Neil wants to give himself over to Andrew; he wants to be touched and filled up until he’s close to melting.

They each hitch up their pants and Neil follows Andrew to the bedroom. Andrew pins him down and positions his hands against the rails of the headboard. Andrew winds the cold, silky binds around Neil’s wrists and plants deliberately soft kisses across his collarbone and chest before getting up and walking over to the dresser. Neil wriggles against the sheets, feeling adrift at the sudden absence of Andrew’s body against his own. His dick is harder than ever, lying flush against his stomach.

Andrew returns with lube and a small, pink dildo Neil had forgotten they even owned. Neil sucks in a breath through his nose whispering ‘ _yes, yes, yes_ ’ over and over like it’ll make Andrew go fucking _faster_.

Andrew spreads his legs and nips a fanged kiss just above his hip before smoothing the lube against his hole and working it inside of Neil with a deft, pivoting finger. With his left hand, Andrew starts jerking Neil off. It’s firm enough to have an effect, but soft enough to leave Neil wanting more. Neil strains against his binds, digs his heels into the mattress, and waits. After Andrew can happily fit three fingers inside of him, he lubes up the toy and slowly pushes it inside Neil, letting it rest against that bright, wonderful spot that makes Neil see stars. Neil arches his back and lets Andrew take him over the edge by fucking him with the toy and furiously jerking him off. It doesn’t take long; Andrew’s mouth has already done the bulk of the work. Andrew takes him all the way through his orgasm until there’s come spilling down his knuckles.

“Still yes?” Andrew asks, wiping his hand against the crumpled bed sheets and nodding at the binds.

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to come in my mouth.”

Andrew sighs through his nose and strokes himself with only his thumb and index finger as he clambers over Neil to straddle his chest. He cards one hand through Neil’s hair and gives a firm tug as he curls his hand into a fist around his cock. Like Neil, he doesn’t take long.

“Now, Neil,” he warns, as he grits his teeth and starts coming.

Neil lets loose a sound like a gasp as he parts his lips. Most of Andrew’s come pools on his tongue, though some catches the side of his face. He swallows, enjoying the hot, heady taste he’s gotten so fond of over the years, as Andrew loosens the ties and firmly massages his wrists.

“Okay?” Andrew mumbles, placing a kiss against one of the translucent, ghost-like scars that lie there.

“More than,” Neil tells him.

They’re both hot and sticky, flushed pink from orgasm. Andrew tugs off his t-shirt and tosses it at Neil, who uses it to wipe the mess off his face and then bundles the fabric into a ball before shoving it in their laundry basket.

After, they shower together, taking their time to tread slow, easy paths over each other’s bodies with their fingertips and lips. Neil returns to the living room in clean sweats and with pleasantly aching limbs, keen to curl up on the couch, but the sound of the cats twittering on the balcony distracts him momentarily.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, unlatching the balcony doors.

The cats wander in, seemingly untroubled, and Neil closes the doors before the cold air can start nipping at his skin.

Andrew joins him on the couch a few moments later, placing two steaming mugs of malty cocoa on the table and picking up his abandoned, half-eaten slice of cake. Neil smiles and curls up beside Andrew, resting his head on his shoulder.

They’ve shared so many firsts, but they’ve also had lots of seconds and thirds and _hundredths_. The kisses pile up, and forever takes shape. Neil is glad he’ll get to experience some things countless times, and he hopes that whenever they decide to celebrate an anniversary, it plays out exactly like this one.

**Author's Note:**

> personal hc is that neil is a shaniac and that andrew PRETENDS to be a shaniac but is secretly a massive boogara
> 
> i'm on tumblr @ [palmetttos](http://palmetttos.tumblr.com/) \- let me know there/in the comments if I've made any mistakes


End file.
